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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 19, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 19, 2016



I stand on the porch,
A joint between my fingers,
Pondering the life
I wish I never had.

I picture him on top of me,
My screams drowning,
Suppressed by the alcohol,

And then I wonder why.

I smell his breath
And I see his mustache,
His jeans,
His hat.

These things I remember.

I feel his lips,
And his hands on my body,
My skin,
My soul.

And again
I wonder why. 

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